Losing Sleep
by realtrashwriting
Summary: Sometimes people can have trouble falling asleep. Sometimes it is Maka with her fretting and sometimes it is Soul, sick of his nightmares. For SoMa Week 2016 Prompt 2: Can't Sleep
1. Chapter 1: Losing Sleep

**Second Set For SoMa Week 2016 Prompt 2: Can't Sleep**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Soul Eater**

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Soul's operation had Stein working ceaselessly through the night. The man had staunched blood and gone through two rolls of bandages on the helicopter flight back to Death City. Maka had no difficulties watching what unfolded. Her father and Stein had done what they could and she sat down on the side to take it all in.

When she went home after Soul was deemed stable, she lay awake, staring at the back of her lamp with dim green eyes. Maka had fixed her unseeing gaze at the blue lampshade and though of her partner.

Soul had not deserved this; to be treated like a patient, a victim of circumstance. He was her partner, a _hero_ , her best friend. Getting him hurt should never have been an option. It wasn't fair that he was in a gurney, healing from wounds that were meant for her. It was _her_ inability that had caused this. Her weakness in battle proved how incompetent she was.

Maka clenched the pale pink of her sheets and allowed herself a sob. This was _her_ fault. Perhaps, if she had blocked as Soul had told her to, he would be less injured. If she hadn't forced him to accompany her to the cathedral, he wouldn't be hurt at all. Instead, she had tried to do more than the mission and go try to save those group of arrogant souls who fought with her partner. He was worth so much more than she could verbalize.

The longer Soul slept, the more restless Maka became. Stein had promised that Soul would recover, but every time she saw him, he was still breathing shallowly in a coma-like state. Closing her eyes only brought back the disturbing image of Chrona slicing through Soul's chest like it was paper, like there was nothing easier. No matter how many times she showered, she imagined his blood seeping through her gloves and skirt. The brown and red had dyed her uniform and refused to wash out. Maka threw them away and spent the next few days eating sparsely and being unable to sleep for more than three hours without being thrown away by a vicious nightmare in which her partner never opened his eyes.

About a week and a half after Italy, Stein gave Maka a stern lecture on the importance of rest. It didn't change anything. Her father tried to coo her to sleep as he had done in her childhood, but the ever present thought of facing a nightmare with Soul dead prohibited sleep of any kind. It was only when Maka was alone with Soul, letting her bare fingers play with his piano hands, that she felt any facet of solace at all.

Sweetly, in the silence of her partner's IV drip, his heart monitor and his breathing, she sat herself down for the twelfth time and took up his hand.

"I'm a little selfish, aren't I?" she asked quietly between them. She thumbed the back of his hand as if to remind herself that he was still physical; still with her. "Maybe more than a little." Maka rubbed his knuckles. "Do you think I'm selfish? Me wanting you to get better for the both of us?" She took a breath. "If you wake up, I'll do your share of laundry for a month. How does that sound?"

She got her customary mute response and brought his hand up for her cheek. "The apartment's not the same without you, you know? Get well and come home. You have so much homework to make up for."

"Liar." If she hadn't seen his lips move, she wouldn't have believed it. "We can't have that much otherwise you'd be doing it."

"I finished it," Maka shot back, but she had tears in her eyes and a wobbly smile. Nothing could soothe her soul better than the slow voice of her weapon partner.

"You look exhausted."

"Better than you," she said softly, leaning into his weakened hand.

"First time we ever landed here, huh?"

"It's going to be the last time," Maka vowed.

Her partner frowned. "Get some sleep," he said. Soul pulled his hand away and gently pressed the pads of his fingers against the underside of her eyes. She knew he could see the shadows, could feel the wetness of her cheeks. She hadn't really looked at herself since their mission in Italy and she could only imagine that she looked both worn and weathered by the stress and overhanging guilt.

"I'm not tired."

"Liar," he sighed again, taking her hand and closing his eyes again. "I know _I'm_ exhausted."

"Yeah." Maka used her spare hand to rub away some of the tears, tears that she didn't want Soul to see even though it was too late. "I'm going to stay with you for a bit. Is that okay?"

"Cool." Soul squeezed her hand, seeming to already grow drowsier every moment longer. "Don't forget though."

"Hmm?"

"You've got to do my laundry for a month."

She coughed out a laugh and watched her partner fall asleep again. Maka rested her head in the pillowing of her arm while the upper half of her body leaned over his cot. She fell asleep not five minutes after and felt more at peace than she had in a while.


	2. Chapter 2: It Doesn't Hurt To Cuddle

**Second Set For SoMa Week 2016 Prompt 2: Can't Sleep**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Soul Eater**

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 **Epilogue: It Doesn't Hurt To Cuddle**

"I can't sleep."

Soul glanced over at her from his spot on the couch stiffly. His meister stood just outside her bedroom door, her pajamas looking blue in the light of the television. "You really cut to the chase, didn't you?"

"What are you doing up?" she asked instead, walking over to the television, which played a cooking show that he had long since stopped paying attention to.

"Just watching something. Nothing important. And you? Why are you awake, Miss 'I-need-exactly-nine-hours-of-sleep'?"

"I just can't sleep."

"Come here, then."

"I-"

"It's okay. Just do it." They moved together in sync, fitting in the places and spaces the other provided. Instead of pulling her in, Maka's arms curved around his body and held him close to her with his ear pressed to her chest. He could hear her heartbeat through the tank top she was wearing. It was rhythmic and steady and just as familiar as he remembered. Soul dragged a blanket over them as they sat, ignoring the hum of the show. His cheek was now pressed to the chest of his meister, and Soul felt the tension slip from his shoulders.

"We haven't done this in a long time," he mused aloud.

"I reserve this for the really bad nights. You know that." Her hands rested in his hair, combing through strand after strand of pale white. Soul relaxed against his partner, hugging her back. He had long since stopped worrying about being too heavy for her. As much as she complained about it, she enjoyed when they were close. Something about being warm and better than her blankets.

"You're the one that can't sleep," he said, "I should be comforting you."

"But this is more comfortable, don't you think?" she asked. When he didn't answer, she followed with, "Do you remember the first time we did this?" He nodded into her shirt. "I found you in the kitchen," she reminisced and her voice hummed through her chest to vibrate against his cheek. "Not a bit of food in sight. I don't even know why I woke up in the first place. You told me it was a coincidence and then I dragged you to bed and we just lay like this until you fell asleep. Do you remember?"

"I couldn't forget it even if I tried. When we lay down, you told me that I would sleep guaranteed. And I asked you how you knew that."

"And I told you that this was what my mama and papa used to do for me when I needed a bit of extra courage. Every needs a bit of courage sometimes." He could hear the smile in her voice. "But sometimes," Maka's hand drooped a bit lower and thumbed the curve of his face, tracing the bones with slow, languid lines. He looked up at her, trying not to let his chin dig into her body. "I don't think it was a coincidence at all."

"What do you mean?"

"I think that even back then, we were connected somehow. Not like we are now that you're a Death Scythe." She leaned her head against the back of the couch but her eyes never left his. She was contemplative in her words, but there was a level of honesty "Like, sometimes, when you wake up, a part of me just _knows_ that it happened. Back then, I think you and me were resonating somehow without trying. It was so flawless. Like we were always resonating but were just unaware of it."

"Maybe we were. It's an interesting theory." He liked the idea of being so connected to Maka even before he had these overwhelming _feelings_ for her; before he knew she had similar feelings for him.

"Yeah. The nightmares were rough on us." She paused to continue her ministrations: soft fingers brushing his skin and stroking his hair the way she knew he enjoyed. Soul reveled in her attention. "Do you mind-"

"No. It's fine." Soul had to stop himself from stiffening, focusing instead on the smooth sound of her voice and the fine shadows that her bangs cast over her forehead.

Her hands paused only for a second before they carried on. "I didn't even finish my question."

"Didn't have to. I knew what you were gonna say."

"And?"

"And it's fine. _I'm_ fine. I don't even remember why I woke up in the first place."

It was as if he didn't even need context. It didn't take a genius to put three in the morning and a Black Blood infested Soul together. Maka didn't say anything about his boldfaced lie and continued to soothe him with her presence. Neither of them were watching the television. Soul muted it and let himself rest against Maka's body; let himself enjoy simply being with her.

"Hey, Soul?"

"Yeah."

"I'm actually really tired."

He buried a chuckle into her shirt. "I figured."

"What do you mean 'you figured'? I _told_ you I was tired."

"You did. But you also do this thing where you stare a little too long at my eyes when you lie." He grinned up at her. "It's how I know."

"You're so sneaky," Maka said, "and why have you never told me this?"

"You normally _don't_ lie to my face, and when you do it's about whose turn it is to cook dinner or about the date of the next test because you always think that it'll make me study harder. Which it doesn't, by the way."

"I'll have to keep that in mind," She smoothed back his hair, strange and out of place on anyone except him, "but I'm serious. We should go to sleep."

"Yeah. But now, I'm too tired to move."

"Now, _you're_ too tired to move? I think it was only a couple weeks ago that you told me you were too cool to sleep with your meister when we almost fell asleep watching _Master Chef_. You couldn't wait to get away then."

"For the record," said Soul, pressing his cheek to her shirt and holding her tighter, "I'm _still_ too cool to sleep with you."

"Whatever you say, tough guy," she murmured, tilting her chin down to press a kiss onto the top of his head. "Sweet dreams."

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 **Hope you enjoyed this segment. I look forward to writing a bit more for you!**


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